


vocabulary lessons

by androgynousmikewheeler



Category: Whitechapel (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, chandler has claimed miles as his dad, figuring out sexual relationships, human disasters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 09:15:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29898918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/androgynousmikewheeler/pseuds/androgynousmikewheeler
Summary: Chandler doesn't quite understand why Kent is upset. He asks Miles to help him clear things up.
Relationships: Joseph Chandler & Ray Miles, Joseph Chandler/Emerson Kent
Comments: 6
Kudos: 10





	vocabulary lessons

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jaded_firefly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaded_firefly/gifts).



Chandler flicks on the turn signal, fidgeting as he waits impatiently for a break in the next lane. 

Miles sips his tea and watches him. "Have a fight with the mister?" he asks, a light joke to his tone.

Chandler taps the steering wheel and manages to merge over. He hums. "I'm not sure. I think so."

Miles laughs. "You're _not sure_ if you're in a fight?"

Chandler rolls his eyes. "I know Kent is upset with me. I just don't know why. So I don't know if that counts as a fight."

He snorts. "You're practically married already. I don't think I could count the times I didn't know why Judy was mad at me on a hundred hands."

Chandler scrunches his brow. "That sentence was grammatically confusing. But I think I follow." 

"You're the worst."

Chandler nods. "I am." He grits his teeth before blurting, "Can I ask you something? You're not allowed to mock me for it."

Miles slouches back in his chair and grins, sharklike despite its humor. "I am 100% going to mock you. But continue."

Chandler glares at him. "You're the worst."

Miles' smile widens. "I am. What's the question?"

Chandler pulls at his collar. "Do you know what a pillow princess is?" he murmurs. 

Miles spits out his tea. " _What?_ " he laughs.

His eyes narrow. "You heard me. And clearly you know what it is. So tell me."

Miles' voice is near indecipherable through his cackling. "Did _Kent_ call you that?"

Chandler takes the turn a little too sharply, Miles jolting against his seatbelt. "Will you answer the damn question?"

"He _did!_ God, I love that kid."

He groans and massages his temple, voice resigned to its humiliation. "It's a sexual term, isn't it?"

Miles nods emphatically. "It most definitely is."

Chandler stares ahead with dead eyes. "I could really use a stray sinkhole right now."

Miles' laughing fit subsides and he knocks his wrist against Chandler's shoulder. "I'm done, I'm done. How do I explain this?" He thinks for a moment, still battling a smile. He clears his throat, half a laugh, and says, "It's, er, a sexual partner who... doesn't do much in bed."

Chandler turns to him, mouth open in offense. "What do you mean, _'doesn't do much?_ '"

Miles points back at the windshield. "Eyes on the road," he scolds. "It's someone who... receives attention rather than giving it." 

Chandler's, "Hmph!" is uncomfortably high pitched.

Miles shrugs, palms out. "Don't shoot the messenger. I'm not the one who said it."

At that, the offense in Chandler's face crumples into concern. "Does he– I don't mean to– I'm _very_ uncomfortable with bodily fluids," he blurts.

Miles glares at him. "What did I do to become your sex therapist?"

"Sorry," Chandler mumbles, "Never mind." He pulls into a parking space and engages the emergency brake.

As the engine winds down, Miles sighs. "Just bloody ask what he's upset about. It's never pleasant but it usually works all right."

Chandler smiles at him. "Thanks, Miles."

"Oh, don't go goopy on me. Get your damn keys and let's interview some suspects."

"Yes, mum."

Miles gives him a two finger salute. "Shove it, pillow princess."

* * *

When Kent gets home that evening, Chandler is sitting at the kitchen table, watching the door and drumming his fingers endlessly.

Kent shies away, face heating. The guilt that spent the day pooling in his stomach threatens to boil over. "Hey," he mutters as he kicks off his shoes.

"Good evening," Chandler says, his over the top formality poorly covering his own discomfort.

Kent hangs his bag and keys neatly in their places, a routine neatness adopted from his partner. "How was work?" he asks, as if they haven't spent the workday purposefully avoiding each other.

"I'm sorry," Chandler says, disregarding the question entirely. "My issues have gotten too inconvenient again and I've upset you. Tell me how to fix it, please."

Kent spins towards him, dark eyes big with concern. "Your OCD is flaring up? I hadn't noticed. Are you okay?"

"Isn't that what you're mad about? My inability to," he pauses a moment in revulsion, "deal with bodily fluids?"

Kent blinks for a second. Then he walks to Chandler's side, resting a hand on his forearm. He looks awkward and doll-like and scared. "Chandler," Kent says gently, "I'm not angry with you. And certainly not about bodily fluids. Which," he shudders, "is the grossest way to refer to anything, but... I'm sorry I lashed out."

This does not seem to lift Chandler's anxieties. "Then what _are_ you upset about?"

Kent ruffles his curls and looks away. "I– I'm just being stupid and insecure. It's nothing."

Chandler rests his hand over the top of Kent's. "You know I'm a detective, right? I categorically disbelieve the words, 'It's nothing.'"

Kent rolls his eyes. "Real inconvenient, that. I... it just feels like maybe you don't want to touch me. Like I gross you out. You're like this perfectly clean being and I'm the stray dog getting dirt on your rug." He shrugs. "Like I said. Stupid." He fixates on the overlap of their hands, avoiding Chandler's gaze.

"I want to touch you. I love touching you," Chandler states, ever so matter of fact. "I'm just not good at it. So I don't."

"What do you mean?"

His face reddens as he speaks, fiddling with his cufflinks. "I don't exactly have much experience. It... it seems like you know exactly what you're doing and I don't have a clue. So I... sit still and try not to fuck anything up." He exhales. "I also would not be adverse to gloves. I don't enjoy getting my hands sticky."

"I'm cool with gloves," Kent says. "And I'd rather you try something and do it badly than just... sit there. Sex is awkward and most people start out pretty bad at it. That's normal. Expected, really. You're not going to fuck anything up."

"But I don't even know what to try. I'm completely out of my depth here."

"Maybe I could guide you through it? Or I could write instructions. I know how much you like those."

Chandler considers. "I _do_ enjoy clearly written instructions. Can they include gloves?"

Kent grins. "Yes, they can include gloves."

He smiles. "And then I won't be a pillow princess?"

Kent laughs. "I mean, 'pillow princess' is usually used by lesbians anyway. But I do believe a good set of instructions will rescue you from being one."

"I think I can work with that."

Kent kisses him. "I'll get to it, then."

Chandler's bewildered voice follows him into their office. "Wait, why does _Miles_ know what a pillow princess is?"

**Author's Note:**

> I am not, to be clear, saying that being a pillow princess is a bad thing, just that it doesn't work for this particular relationship


End file.
